


bruises on your thighs (like my fingerprints)

by ariadne_odair



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Apocalypse, F/F, Fear, Fingering, Girl Direction, and louis will protect her no matter what, angsty as hell, but happy ending, girl!Harry, girl!Louis, harry is louis' girl, lots of hugging in tents, that's always happy, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2112279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadne_odair/pseuds/ariadne_odair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> it's the apocalypse. it's the apocalypse, and louis has her girl by her side, harry's face buried into her neck, their limbs tangled together so louis couldn't escape if she wanted to. not that she'd have anywhere to go. it's the end of the world after all. </i><br/> <br/><i>and she'd never leave harry. never. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	bruises on your thighs (like my fingerprints)

It's the apocalypse. It's the apocalypse and Louis has her girl in her arms, and precisely nothing else. Actually, that's a lie, she has dirt tracked over her left arm from foraging earlier, a streak heading from her wrist, then cracking up, the mud ending at her bicep. There's not a lot of water left. She didn't have time to wash anyway. There's a stupidly long queue for the showers, and the block smells sterile and wretched, with no curtains. Louis might try and bribe Liam tonight, get her to spare her and Harry a couple of minutes alone. 

She turns to look at Harry then, curled up sweetly in Louis' arms. Her hair is pulled back from her face by a scarf, the once vibrant blue dulled. Her eyelashes are an ashy smudge against her cheek, her soft skin covered in a thin layer of dust, her full lips slack in sleep.

She's holding onto Louis' arm tightly, nail leaving little crescent shapes, but Louis likes the reminder. Likes the fact that the marks will fight the impermanence that now is their lives, will fade only for Harry to bruise her skin again.

"Hazza," Louis says softly, voice a whisper in the darkness of their tent. The air conditioning has blown again, and until Niall fixes it, they're all camping outside of the unit. If Louis closes her eyes, ignores the hum of the electric fence, blacks out the sound of the patrol team marching up and down, she can pretend they're just two girls on a camping trip.

Except their tent has blood stains. Maybe more of a thriller in the woods, than a romantic get away.

Harry stirs next to her, and Louis looks at her, as attune to her body as always. Liam says they're like creepy twins sometimes, because Louis always knows what Harry's thinking, always adjusts so she can fit into her space, makes her smaller steps quick to match Harry's strides, links their fingers at the same time and doesn't let go.

Louis tells that she sees the way Liam's eyes light up at that Malik girl, the new one who arrived at their camp with four mouths to feed in tow, so she can shut up.

Harry shuffles again, letting out a breathy sigh, before opening her eyes. Her eyes are so, so green. "Hey."

"Hey," Louis says, propping herself up on one elbow. She drops her hand to Harry's stomach, lazily tracing circles there. Harry sleeps in a loose shirt of Louis' and boxers, and her long legs are curled up under her, shadows dancing over them in the dimness. "You drool in your sleep."

"It turns you on," Harry yawns, scrunching her eyes closed. There's this hollow place under Louis' ribcage, empty and dark, full of gunshots and bullet wounds, nightmares and despair. And Harry, when Harry does something sweet, like crinkles her eyes like a baby kitten, Louis tucks that away in the space, lets it glow and silence the screaming for a while.

"True," Louis murmurs, "but only because I don't have a lot of choice. It's you or Niall. Got to get my kicks somewhere."

"Niall's a lovely girl," Harry says primly, "you'd be lucky to have her, Tomlinson."

"I don't want her. She keeps batteries in her snap back."

"Because she's an electrician."

"Because we were stupid enough to give her a power tool and she decided she was a DIY store."

"Ah well," Harry says, rolling onto her back. Her hand plays with the threads of their bedding, twisting the worn material.

"We should have sex," Louis decides, flumping back down on the floor. "I'm bored."

Harry smiles at the ceiling, eyes tinged in sadness. Louis knows she's trying to work out whether Louis is bored, or if she's just feeling too empty tonight, too full of bitterness until she chokes.

"I've heard they've found a cure," Harry says, so, so softly.

Louis freezes, entire body locking up. She feels as though all the oxygen has gone from the room, her lungs protesting as that one sentence steals it from her.

"That Malik girl? Her mum's a doctor, she used to radio her, she said - "

"Shut up," Louis snaps, her voice warped and twisted and  _tired._ "We don't talk about this. You know this. You promised."

"You don't talk about it," Harry says quietly. She's still staring at the ceiling, but her hand has clenched into a fist. "Lou, I think - "

"Don't say it's real this time," Louis says tightly. It feels as though someone's got a hand around her heart, squeezing. "It's not real. You know what's real? The electric fence. This fucking tent."

She pauses.

"You."

She doesn't say anything, can't say anything, the word's echoing in her head. Louis doesn't want hope. Hope will fuck her up more than this apocalypse did.

"Okay, Lou," Harry says finally, voice husky, lips cracked. "Okay. Let's have sex."

It's enough to make a laugh bubble out of Louis. Harry grins, triumphant, and neither of them mention the sheen of tears in Harry's eyes.

"Cocky," Louis mutters, swinging her legs over Harry's so she's straddling her.

She leans down, nuzzling Harry's kneck, sharp teeth biting before soothing the marks over with her tongue. Harry squirms beneath her, and Louis kisses her, cracked lips sliding together, Louis licking into her mouth, trying to taste Harry.

Harry always taste the same, sweet and heady, and for that Louis is grateful.

"Off, off," Harry pants, pulling her shirt over head. She sleeps without a bra, because of couse she does, and Louis swirls her tongue around Harry's nipple, tugs it gently with her teeth.

At the same time she runs her nail around Harry's other breast, digging in just slightly, enough Harry's pupils darken with the pain. Harry likes the jolt of it to keep her grounded.

Louis just likes sex. And Harry. And sex with Harry. She wasn't joking about Niall earlier.

She slides her fingers into Harry's pants, tugging them down gently. She parts her folds easily, Harry slick against her fingers, already wet.

Harry whimpers, and Louis runs her thumb over her clit slowly, teasing. Harry's whimpering now, one arm thrown over her head, skinny ribs standing out in the darkness. Louis slides one finger into her, then another, just to see Harry convulse, to feel her clench around Louis' fingers instinctively, thighs trembling.

Louis pushes Harry's arm away, joining their lips, the kiss desperate and messy. "I love you," Louis murmurs against Harry's mouth, then begins to fuck Harry properly, fingers thrusting into her, dragging her thumb over Harry's clit, crooking her fingers in all the right place.

When Harry comes, she's so lovely Louis can't think, whole body shaking, clenching onto Louis' fingers so tightly, eyes close, lips bruised.

She whines as Louis slides her fingers out, clutching Louis' hips. Louis licks the taste of Harry off her hands, grinning when Harry glowers at her.

"Fucking tease."

Louis giggles, the sound high and strange in the captivity of the tent."Hey, I just gave you a great orgasm, be nice. Be grateful."

Harry rolls her eyes, soft and blissed out. "Yeah, because it's such a chore. What else you going to do around here?"

They both pause at that, reality rushing back like a knife to their backs. Louis sees the stains on the wall of the tent, sees the mud on her arm, the thrum of the electric fence.

She really fucking hates that fence. Even though it keeps her alive. If she's being introspective, that's probably why she hates it. Because it's a reminder of the protection they all crave.

"Hey," Harry says quietly, bringing one hand up to circle Louis' wrist. "You want to ride my thigh?"

Louis nods, quiet. Harry likes to be pinned down, but it's give and take this thing between them. Harry knows Louis needs her to help her get out of her head for a little while.

Louis tugs off her underwear, sudden jolts of adrenalin running through her. Harry looks so good below her, still slick between her legs, and when Louis lowers herself onto her thigh she gasps at the sudden friction.

"Harry," Louis moans, moving her hips. Harry holds her hips with one hand, scratching her nails gently over the bone there.

The other hand comes up to cup Louis' breast, one hand twisting the nipple as Louis grinds harder. Louis panting now, starting to get a rhythm going, heat beginning to build in her lower stomach.

Harry kisses her, lips meeting as Louis grinds faster, everything heightened in the small space. She feels Harry nipping her lower lip, one hand squeezing her breast, her soft skin as Louis rides her.

Louis comes with a shout that's probably too loud, whole body shaking, boneless as she clings to Harry. She rolls of Harry's thigh, which is wet and hot now, the realisation sending another jolt through her.

"I love you," Harry says fiercely, pulling Louis to her, wrapping her arms around her. Louis hugs her back, holding on tight, breathing in Harry's reassuring smell. Mostly she smells like sex, and Louis, but that's enough. That's all she needs.

"I love you too," she says, muffled into Harry's neck. She closes her eyes, feels her body slowly begin to relax. "I'm glad I got to spend the apocalypse with you."

Harry's nice enough to pretend Louis' not crying, and holds her tighter.

 

 

 

 

 

The day Louis finds out they _have_ found a cure, she cries for a full hour, then burns the fucking tent.

 

 

 

 

Harry proposes, but she's always been an upstaging little shit.

**Author's Note:**

> this was an ambiguous apocalypse scenario, so fill in the gaps yourself :) I have no idea where that came from, but I hope you liked it! :)
> 
> [tumblr](http://ariadneodair.tumblr.com/) :)
> 
> [fic link!](http://ariadneodair.tumblr.com/post/123215127537/bruises-on-your-thighs-like-my-fingerprints/)


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